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yonder

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Member since: Tue Feb 1, 2011, 03:10 AM
Number of posts: 3,894

About Me

60+, semi-retired, from a corner of a red state in the PNW

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About 3 weeks ago, my friend made the 60 mile trip from his dry state home to a legal state.

On his way there he counted about a dozen dry state troopers in the opposite lane of the interstate, about half of those who had pulled over vehicles for whatever reason. Maybe half of those stopped were in the obvious process of being searched. That was far more than my friend was used to seeing and all those sightings were within about 10 miles of the state line. Somewhat panicked, my friend thought about turning around but decided to press on. He secured the reason for his visit and decided to travel home via several different state and county roads with which he was familiar with. The return trip took him 2 to 3 times the amount of time than it took to get there but he ran that gauntlet and made it home without incident. My friend thinks the next time, he might pack his vehicle with fishing or camping gear to use as a reason for the journey.

Despite the corona virus thing shaking up the world, my friend is now somewhat calmer -- for the time being anyway.

I think this blatant PR stunt could backfire on them, at least eventually.

So these 90-100 million viewers, less than half being tRump supporters, see his chest-thumping and think to themselves "why is he doing this? This, during my god-given right to watch the god-given and sacred Superbowl, and we have to watch him babble even more"? Especially if tRump flubs something which makes it even more apparent that he has lost his mind. Of course, it shouldn't affect his base but the rest of the viewers may just add another notch to their "tired of trump" belt, roll their eyes and think "oh brother, more politics on my religious holiday".

I've got to think that the tarnished egg-laying days of that pyrite goose are coming to an end for the tRump PR machine as the I-don't-give-a-shit crowd could be getting close to tRump overload.

I may be fooling myself, but if this happens on Sunday as planned, we will start to see that whole, hellbound train lose steam and eventually jump the tracks. You just can't be fucking with folks' religion on their holy day.

I'm still planning on watching though, tRump or not, while rootin' for KC.

He doesn't know the difference between quality of lie

because he doesn't know the difference between true and false, or more broadly, right and wrong. His reality is whatever his perpetual, internal emptiness demands at the moment.

He opens his mouth and one of two things happen: Shit goes in to try and fill the void or shit goes out, again to try and satisfy that void. There is just nothing there on a level that anyone can get at. Somewhere, down deep there is probably a needy, little Donny Trump, but Fred and a privileged, no account life took care of that. What a torture it must have been growing up in that household.

It's sad in a way but the only tears I have to shed are for the rest of us who have to deal with him and the resulting damage he has caused.

As a young teen, Sensei George Harris 9th Dan

was my Judo instructor. This would've been about 1968. He was a member of the 1964 US Olympic Judo team which was the first year Judo became an Olympic sport. I think former Democrat but switched Republican Sen. Ben Nighthorse Campbell was on that team also.

For anyone that asks who?, Sensei Harris was a soft-spoken, kind, gentle giant who deservedly earned much respect, both on and off the mat. I'm glad to have known him those many years ago.

For Sensei Harris, you helped shape my life:

Been there.

We played a St. Patricks Day gig at the local Shriners hall once. They assured us they had a decent PA and would take care of the sound. They didn't.

It was bad enough that the five of us were forced to huddle under one inadequate microphone hanging from the ceiling and no monitors, but after opening with a few sets of our usual hot reels and jigs, they started asking for the typical Danny Boy/Irish Eyes are Smiling/Cockles and Mussels ilk. Uh Oh. We dug deep, pulled out Whiskey in the Jar. That quieted them up till we played a hornpipe set and a few more reels. They got louder and louder. As I remember, we gave them a dose of Miss Fogerty's Christmas Cake and took a break. A short while later, their contact guy came over and said we weren't playing real Irish music and asked us to box it up. Oh well but they did pay up.

Unknown to them, those poor old gomers did hear some real Irish tunes.

Thanks. Ralph Vaughan Williams. One of my favorite classical composers.

I still don't get why Ralph is pronounced "Raif" rather than "Ralf". Without knowing why, I always thought it was a bit pretentious.

His "Five Variants of Dives and Lazarus" is another fine one with that theme coming from a folk song/melody I first knew as The Star of the County Down. Everyone and their cousin plays that one in some form.

If there was only one word to use to describe RVW's style, I would say pastoral. As in peaceful, English countryside or Hobbitsville, etc.

Yes, mine are tested often enough.

Well done Shred, you've observed two species of Idaho's well-known genera, amans pseudopatriae fictus.

The first, a. vexillum magna is less common in that montane/sub-alpine locale but ubiquitous elsewhere, especially in the north part of the state. Characterized by their florid courtship displays from their overly large, American built utility vehicles which usually emit diesel brown and black to the less common light gray to blue, noxious gasses. Sometimes dangerous but always unpredictable, it is best to observe these from a safe distance.

The second, a. rubrum galerum is smaller, much more common and an invasive species believed to have originated from the south and east of the U.S. three or four years ago. Widely distributed, it can be found throughout Idaho and identified by it's unique, squeaky to booming call: maga-MAGA. An effort is being made to control this species with definitive results expected in approximately a year and half. Though much safer to approach than a. vexillum magna, they do off-gas somewhat and caution is advised as contact can be unpredictable with their characteristic foamy mouth parts and flailing limbs.

That privileged group also misguidedly believes they will be able to maintain that privilege.

For a while they might but eventually that "right-wing edifice" will come tumbling down too, victim to an exponential entropy they created themselves. At the end, perhaps a few will recognize that folly but by then the wheels of the world will be smashed, with nothing left but rocks and sticks.

Personally, I have been losing hope at an ever increasing rate.

I'm not inclined to give himself credit for any strategic thinking.

His mind is gone, probably from his cocaine/speed fueled nightclub days. Those days are catching up to him. He cannot remember what he said from one moment to the next and that, coupled with his lazy inability to think critically and his penchant for lying about all things big and small, results in his idiotic, all-over-the-place rambling.

The thing is, the silver-spooned bully has never had to be accountable for anything. He's always been the boss so whatever he says is right whenever he spittles it out, despite being contrary to what he may have just said. When it turns out okay, he takes the credit, when it doesn't it is somebody else's nightmare. It has just never mattered before now.

He's in the spotlight now and expected to have at least some skills. Those skills aren't there. There are no tools in the toolbox. In fact, he's never even needed a toolbox but now he does and all he has is a moldering lump of plumbers putty bound by a few strips of duct tape and baling wire.

No, that rotting loofah he might call "the best brain" can only ponder one thing and that is himself, while day by day he gets ever more dangerous.

"...Donald Thinks D-Day Is About Him"

Aided no doubt by his own seriously out of plumb sense of worth and his miscreant staff, at least two of which are visible in the line of sight just above the Queen's head: John "Yosemite" Bolton and what looks to be shady, sunglass-shrouded Stevie "Wormtongue" Miller.

What the hell would Miller be doing there?

That whole chickenshit tRump entourage is a damn disgrace to those who died on that shore those many years ago, everyone else who gave the ultimate sacrifice in service to their country, those who were able to come home wherever that might be, those who ever served or continue to serve and finally, the rest of us who benefit from that service.

Effin imposters is right. I just want to puke.

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